


Close Every Door

by KatieHavok, Kemara



Series: Doors [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Captivity, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fierce Tina, Kidnapping, Sexual Slavery, Swearing, Torture, newtina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/pseuds/KatieHavok, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemara/pseuds/Kemara
Summary: She does not cry. In the beginning, it is a measure of defiance. In the end, it is the only thing she can control.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! This is not a happy tale, please heed the tags - although it will have a happy ending. I wanted to take the "Percival Graves is rescued from captivity by Tina" trope and turn it around. But Newt stepped in, and this became a Newtina story instead of Goldgraves.
> 
> Tons of thanks to Katie Havok, DeviousDiggy, Loon Whisperer and quillandsaber for all their beta reading, hand holding, butt kicking and research help.

Tina sweeps her free hand across the desk, groping for her mug. Finding it, she absently takes a sip – and nearly spits the ice-cold liquid back out.  
  
Swearing under her breath, she casts a warming charm (she hates how they make the coffee bitter, but right now she doesn’t really care) and goes back to her report. While she’s thrilled to be an auror again, she certainly didn’t miss all the paperwork that goes with the job.  
  
She knows this paperwork is important though. Since Percival Graves was found in January, the members of the DMLE have used their – very limited – free time to scour the records of all MACUSA employees who had met Gellert Grindelwald.  
  
Which means just about everyone. Tina tosses down the file in disgust and picks up another from the stack. While everyone is a bit of an exaggeration, a surprising number of people had crossed paths with the ersatz director of magical security – from house elves to the president herself.  
  
Tina was relieved to learn Bernadette had been under the Imperius curse when she had been in charge of Tina and Newt’s, thankfully aborted execution. Despite that, Tina finds herself avoiding the woman. She still has nightmares about the experience even months later.  
  
“Go home, Goldstein. That’s an order.”  
  
She looks up from the file of someone in magical maintenance. Graves is standing beside her desk, and the rest of the big room is dark and empty, her solitary desk lamp the only light. “What?”  
  
“It’s nearly 2 in the morning. Go home.” He looks exhausted, his face pale and drawn, but she knows better than to mention it. Office gossip says he practically lives at the Woolworth building these days. She doesn’t know exactly what he went through as Grindelwald’s captive, but the glimpse she sees in his eyes sometimes makes her shiver.  
  
She yawns and just barely covers it with her hand. “Sorry, sir. Just lost track of time, I guess.”  
  
He waves her away. “Get some rest. I’ll see you on Monday.”  
  
Slowly, Tina tidies her desk and pulls on her coat. Suddenly, sleep sounds wonderful. Maybe she’ll even take a nap tomorrow afternoon after she and Queenie get the shopping done.  
  
“Enjoy your weekend, Miss Goldstein,” the doorman says as he lets her out.  
  
“Thanks, Jonas, you too.”  
  
The March air is crisp and cold on her face, feeling more of winter than early spring. Tina decides to walk a bit before attempting to apparate home. She told Queenie not to wait up for her, so she has no reason to hurry.  
  
Despite her drowsiness, she forces herself to stay alert, listening and watching all around. “Constant vigilance!” is Mr. Graves’ newest mantra and one she firmly agrees with.  
  
She has just passed an alley when instinct and training make the hair prickle on the back of her neck. She reaches for her wand, but something pins her arms to her sides and whirls her away into suffocating blackness.  
  
“Get her wand!”  
  
Before Tina can recover from the apparition, rough hands drag away her coat. She scrabbles for the pocket, wrapping her fingers around smooth wood. Her right wrist breaks in a flare of white hot pain as someone wrenches it from her grasp. She twists free from the man holding her, slamming her left elbow back. He yells and wraps an arm around her throat, choking off her air.  
  
Her vision blurs as she struggles to breathe. The hands push her down onto something flat, likely a bed or cot. Ropes appear, and – doubling the pain as the broken ends of her bone grind together – bind her arms behind her back. She grits her teeth, forcing her attention away from the nauseating burn in her wrist.  
  
There are at least five men crowded into the small room, a motley assortment of nastiness, and she can see more waiting beyond the doorway. They draw back to make space at the front for a newcomer. He looks vaguely familiar - about six feet tall, brown hair, muscular build with a nose that's been broken more than once. Thanks to Queenie’s love of fashion, Tina can tell his trousers and shirt are made from the finest materials. A tiny, diamond stud glitters from his right ear.  
  
He stands over her, clearly trying to intimidate. "Miss Goldstein, I'm so glad you could join us."  
  
His accent is thick. Italian? A wanted poster from the office swims to the top of her mind. It hangs right beside her desk, so she is well-acquainted with visage, and the name upon it. Raul Balazar, wizard and leader of The Copper Hand gang – the worst in the city. They’re purveyors of illegal magical goods, creatures and services – like murder. Mr. Graves had mentioned wanting to put a permanent team of aurors on their case after Tina brought in Raul’s brother and lieutenant, Ricardo, last month.  
  
“You nabbed Rico for smuggling potions from our friends over the border. Did you really think we would let you get away with that?”  
  
Tina shrugs as best she can. “I could ask you the same question, Mr. Balazar. You don’t run this city, MACUSA does.”  
  
He slaps her – not hard, but enough to make her cheek sting. She knows there will be a bruise later where his heavy, gold ring caught her cheekbone.  
  
“I don’t think you’re in a position to make such bold statements. But I shouldn’t be surprised. We know a lot about you. Very interesting things…. Percival Graves has a liking for you…. Taught you everything he knew. I’m surprised you were so easy to catch. For an auror….” He reaches out and flicks open the top button of her blouse.  
  
She kicks at him, but he steps nimbly back. “Oh, none of that! You’re going to be our guest for a while, Miss Goldstein – Tina – until we’re convinced you’re properly sorry.”  
  
He puts his hands on her knees and leans down to whisper, breath hot against her ear. “And don’t get your hopes up for any daring rescues, doll. Your sister thinks you’re in California on an assignment. Who knows how long you’ll be gone? And last week you put in a request for a nice, long vacation.”  
  
“You bastard,” Tina hisses. _Queenie will know something’s wrong! Someone at the office will ask her about me!_  
  
He chuckles. “By the time anyone misses you, it will be too late.” He slides his hands up her thighs, and she tries to squirm away only to cry out as her wrist protests.  
  
“What’s this?” He straightens up abruptly and glares at his men. “I said get her here unharmed.” His voice is low and menacing. They shift uneasily, not looking at him.  
  
“Uh…” The one who took her wand shuffles forward. “I think I heard her arm break when I took this.” He passes over her wand.  
  
Tina lunges for it instinctively, and Raul shoves her, almost lazily back onto the cot. “I’m afraid I can’t let you keep this. You might hurt yourself.”  
  
He draws his own short wand from an arm holster and waves it. She hisses as her broken bones realign. “It won’t do to have you going into shock on us right at the start. We have plans. Sleep well, Miss Goldstein.”  
  
They leave, locking her in, but Tina barely notices. The mention of Queenie reminds her of the bond they share. She has never been able to shut her sister out of her mind no matter how hard she tries.  
  
_Queenie…. Queenie, please…._  
  
After an indeterminate amount of time she stops, worn out and exhausted. Queenie’s probably asleep, and there’s no telling where Tina’s being held. They’ve never tested the limits of their connection, not really.  
  
_If I live through this I’ll never tell her to get out of my head again._  
  
“Pull yourself together, Goldstein.” She is relieved to hear no tremor in her voice. “You escaped the Death Cell, remember?”  
  
_Yes, but most of that had been Newt and his creatures. All of it, really._ Thinking about Newt causes her to realize that she misses him almost as much as she does Queenie. They write every week – his letter arrives on Fridays and she sends her reply on Mondays. Is a letter waiting for her now? Will he realize something is wrong when he receives nothing in return?  
  
She jerks at the ropes binding her wrists. “Finite Incantatem.” Nothing happens.  
  
"Shit." She’s not very good at wandless magic, but that one always worked in practice. She studies the room – _cell really,_ _call it what it is_ – with an investigator’s eye. She stands and makes a slow circuit, taking in every detail.  
  
It is made of solid stone and smells of mold and mildew – a warehouse storeroom maybe – with no windows. The wooden door has no window either or gaps at the edges. Overhead, a weakly flickering No-Maj light bulb hangs naked from a chain.  
  
There are two buckets in the corner for obvious reasons. Not that she could use them tied up like this, even if she needed to. “Better not think about that.”  
  
She studies the door again, crouching down and raising on her tiptoes. Just a solid wooden door with a normal keyhole. Very solid.  
  
"Damn!" She kicks it furiously and throws herself back onto the cot. “This is balled up!”  
  
The cot is only rough canvas over wood, no padding at all and no pillow. Awkwardly, she manages to swing her legs up and lie down on her side. It’s terribly uncomfortable, and her arms are already going numb.  
  
It’s too quiet, with only her own breathing for company. All her life, she’s been used to the sounds of the city, of other people even at night – motor cars going by the apartment, Queenie’s light snores (she swears she doesn’t), a neighbor's phonograph playing jazz, someone’s feet on the stairs.  
  
To distract herself, Tina goes over her lessons on how to deal with interrogation.  
  
_Don’t think you won’t break. Everyone breaks – the human body and mind can only endure so much. The key is to lie from the start. That way, when you do tell the truth – and you will – your captors won’t know what’s true and what’s false._  
  
Her training covered sleep deprivation, hexes and jinxes, potions – including veritaserum, intimidation – anything aurors might face during their work. Because aurors always, always make enemies.  
  
She has been trained to throw off most instances of the Imperious curse. And Crucio….yes, they’ll probably use that one. It’s bad, but she has a high pain tolerance – most aurors do – so she knows she can hold out for a while. She’s not a good liar though. Queenie says her face always gives her away.  
  
Eventually, she falls into an uneasy doze. _Queenie, I miss you…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She does not cry, even when they snap her wand. ___

Tina slogs to consciousness unwillingly, but unable to do anything else. She cracks open one eye and closes it with a groan as the bright, electric light assaults her vision.

_Was I drinking last night? Must’ve been….too much firewhiskey. Or something._

Her head throbs, and her cheek feels puffy. Come to think of it, her entire body hurts – except for her arms and hands. She can’t feel them at all. In her muddled state, this observation fails to alarm her much.

She tries again to open her eyes, and this time she manages it. Her heart sinks as she realizes her capture wasn’t some horrible nightmare brought on by reading one of her favorite no-maj detective novels before bed.

A damp chill is seeping into her bones, and Tina shivers in her cotton blouse. Her grey wool coat lies discarded in one corner. _Not that I have any way to pick it up. I can’t even apparate, tied like this. They’ve probably got wards to stop anyone trying. I wonder what time it is?_  With no windows or natural light, she has no way of knowing how long she slept. It could’ve been 30 minutes or six hours.

“I could really use some coffee right now.”

The thought of coffee makes her realize that she needs to relieve herself – quite badly.

“Damn. Just try to ignore it.”

She looks around the tiny room for a distraction – from her bladder and the roiling, nauseating fear that keeps clawing up her throat. _What will they do to me, and how much will it hurt?_

The stone room is completely bare of decoration – just a plain square box with a door in one wall. Her breathing speeds up as the panic of the trapped animal begins to overtake her. _Focus! Count the bricks if you have to!_

She’s on number 20 when she hears a tiny squeak from the corner opposite her coat. A brown mouse creeps out of a hole that looks much too small for it. She stays perfectly still as the creature ventures into the room, snuffling at the floor. Looking for bugs maybe. _Do mice eat bugs?_  

Tina doesn’t particularly like mice, but New York City is full of them. She and Queenie must keep up rodent-repelling charms in their apartment, and the tenements are even worse. She’s glad her visitor is a mouse and not one of the huge wharf rats that swarm the docks.  

Edgar Collins, one of her fellow aurors, liked to tell anyone who would listen about how a rat had attacked him during a warehouse raid. “I had to hex it five times before it would let go of my leg!”

But this mouse, _her_ mouse, doesn’t look up to attacking anyone. Its fur is patchy and clings to its bones.

“You look like you could use a good meal,” Tina whispers.

The mouse freezes at the sound of her voice, but doesn’t run. Apparently, it’s used to being around people.

“I don’t have anything for you. Sorry. I wish I did.”

It hunts around a bit more, coming ever closer to the cot on which Tina lies. She studies it: brown fur with a darker stripe along its back, small ears, surprisingly long toes.

“I guess you’re just a regular mouse, huh? If I had my wand and some paper, I could spell you to carry a note for me. Or you could show me the way out. I bet you know, don’t you?”

Rattling at the door makes both of them jump, and the mouse races back to the hole in the wall so fast it’s almost a blur.

“Wake up girlie!” The man who pushes the door open looks like he had a troll for an ancestor. His shirt is rolled up to show heavily muscled forearms, and his bulk fills the entire doorway.

He crosses the room in two strides and yanks Tina up from the cot. He pulls a knife from his belt and turns her around while slashing the ropes binding her wrists. She yelps as feeling rushes back into her arms and hands.

When he lets her go, she sways, suddenly lightheaded. She takes a step and stumbles. She tries to put out a hand to catch herself, but her shoulder muscles burn in protest and she misses, smacking her face into the wall.

He laughs. “Stupid bitch. Come on – boss wants to talk to ya.”

Tina shakes her head to clear the ringing in her ears. She can feel a lump swelling on her forehead. “Wait, I need to….” She motions toward the two buckets.

“Oh really? Well, go on then.” He releases her and stands in the doorway.

She takes two mincing steps toward the corner and stops. He laughs again.

“What? Think I’m gonna let you have your privacy? Go now or piss yourself later. We don’t care.”

_Fucking pervert._ Tina grits her teeth and forces herself to take care of things as quickly as she can without showing too much.

The man reaches for her, and she automatically flinches. He grips her upper arm tight enough to bruise. “Don’t worry. You’re too skinny for me. I like broads with more meat on their bones.”

He drags her out of the cell, and Tina tries to take in and remember as much of her surroundings as she can. The hallway is dark with only a few doors branching off on both sides. One is partly open, and she catches a glimpse of bags and crates, confirming her theory of a warehouse. She knows several gangs – wizard and no-maj alike – that use the huge buildings as hideouts. There are so many MACUSA’s never found them all.

A door at the end of the corridor opens letting in a flood of daylight as two people enter.

Her captor pulls her into another room before she can get a good look.

“Thank you, Adams. If you would wait, please?”

Raul is impeccably dressed, just like the day before. Something about him reminds Tina of Graves. Not just the clothes, but the aura of controlled power.

The room contains nothing except a straight-backed wooden chair and a desk. On top of the desk is an open wooden crate, but Tina can’t see what’s inside.

He gestures to the chair. “Please sit, Miss Goldstein. Hands in your lap where I can see them.”

She does so slowly. He conjures ropes around her chest and legs, and she doesn’t let herself wince at the pinch on her breasts.

“Now, I’m going to ask you a few simple questions. Answer them, and no harm will come to you. Refuse, and I won’t be so nice. I’ll start with something easy. How long have you known Percival Graves?”

_What if I don’t answer him – just refuse to talk? That’s stupid. He’ll hurt me, and I’ll talk anyway._  

“Several years. He was my mentor when I went into auror training after Ilvermorny. But you know that already.”

“Yes, as I say we know much about you. How long did Grindelwald impersonate him?”

_How the hell does he know about that?_

He chuckles at her surprise. “We heard about it of course. Nothing is hidden from us. So. How long?”

“If that’s true then why are you asking?”

He slaps her. Not hard, but as a warning of more to come. “Just answer!”

_Just why do you want to know? Grindelwald’s already been extradited to Europe. Think Goldstein! Don’t make this too easy for them._

“I don’t know exactly. I wasn’t part of that investigation. I had been demoted to the wand permit office by the time he was found.” Tina swallows nervously, steeling herself for what’s coming.

“An outright lie. We know you were restored as an auror after Grindelwald was taken into custody.” Raul shakes his head, feigning regret. “You leave me no choice... Crucio!”

Tina screams. She tries to fight, but the pain takes her over completely, obliterating her senses until there is nothing left except pain. And then it stops. She slumps as much as her bonds will allow, gasping.

“You’re beautiful when you’re in pain.” Raul paces a slow circle around her chair. “But as an auror, you are familiar with Crucio, aren’t you? Do they use it on you in training? I wonder if any of you come to like it after a while.”

Adams laughs. “Wouldn’t surprise me, boss. Aurors got a thing about tying people up and all that.”

“True.” He stops in front of Tina. “You know, magic is so convenient, Miss Goldstein. We have the Crucio for pain.” His voice drops to an obscene whisper. “Avada Kedavra to kill in an instant. And hundreds of curses, hexes and jinxes in between.”

He flicks his wand and she yelps at the feel of a hard pinch to her upper arm. “And any damage we do.” He makes a slashing motion and a shallow cut opens across her upper chest just below her collarbone. “We can heal…” He runs a finger over the wound, sealing it. “As if it never existed.” He licks the blood off his finger, and Tina can’t restrain a shudder.

“But it’s all so clean…so easy. You can’t really get to know someone that way. I think no-majs have the right idea. They’ve invented so many unique ways to hurt each other. And when you combine that with our ability to heal….” His smile makes Tina feel nauseous. “The fun can just go on and on.” He draws the words out, savoring them.

He walks over to the table and reaches into the box. “So, let’s get started.”

To Tina, it feels like his “fun” goes on for hours or days. A constant cycle of hurts and discomforts large and small, brief interludes of blessed relief, followed by yet more pain.

In between, he asks questions, about Graves, herself, her job as an auror, her coworkers, Grindelwald, MACUSA in general. Tina lies as much as she can when she’s able to concentrate. Some truths slip out, but they are small ones he already knows.

“If you want to be stubborn, it’s up to you. We have time.”

Tina spits blood and forces herself to speak around her bitten tongue. “You really think they won’t come looking for me?”

“Oh, I’m counting on it. I said you’re our guest – and you are. But when we’re tired of your company, you’ll help us send a very nice message to Percival Graves about who really runs this city.”

He gestures to Adams. “We’re done for now.”

He follows them to her cell, watching impassively as Adam’s dumps her on the cot.

“I almost forgot.” He takes her wand from his pocket. “I believe you want this back, don’t you?”

_He’s toying with you. He wouldn’t be so stupid._ But she nods anyway.

In one vicious movement, he snaps it in two. The crack seems to echo inside her heart. He tosses the pieces to the floor. “There you go.”

He is laughing as he leaves, but she doesn’t even hear him.

She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting down the sob that threatens to choke her, the overwhelming feeling of loss as though some essential part of her has been torn away.

_Don’t cry, don’t cry. You can get another one. Yes, but it’s won’t be the SAME._

She picks up each broken half in hands that tremble and _remembers._

Walking into the dining hall with the other first years as a brand-new Thunderbird to see the tables covered with wands of all lengths and colors. They are dark, light, some decorated with intricate carvings or inlaid with metal and gems.

Still dizzy with the happy knowledge that she belongs somewhere now, Tina walks up and down the rows. Something bright blue catches her eye: pale wood set with a blue stone – turquoise? – around the silver handle. She reaches out to the beautiful thing – and stops.

Beside it is another wand, this one of plain, gleaming dark wood with a fine grain. It is unadorned and uncarved except for a flare where the handle starts, just right to set the user’s thumb against. There is a matching flare at the base. She strokes the smooth handle with one finger, and the wand leaps into her hand.

“Oh, very good! Miss Goldstein, isn’t it?” One of the teachers is standing beside her holding a scroll of parchment. “I’m Professor Hendrix; I’ll be your charms teacher. Let me see…. Yes, your wand was made by Thiago Quintana. He’s very popular these days. All of his wands have a spine from a White River Monster as the core.”

Tina gulps. “A monster?”

“It’s a type of fish, apparently. The spines are along its back. Your wand is made from hazel wood which means it will be very devoted to you.”

“Are wands alive, ma’am?” Tina turns hers – _mine!_ – over in her fingers. On the edge of the base, she can feel a slight dip, a tiny groove in the otherwise uniform surface. Did the wandmaker put it there deliberately?

“Yes and no. It has things to teach you, but you have things to teach it, as well.”

“But I don’t know any magic yet.”

Professor Hendrix smiles at her very kindly. “You are magic, my dear. Now, you just need to learn to use it.”

Tina sighs at the thought of those early days – long hours of study, but plenty of time for fun, too. Weekends had been spent mostly outdoors with the rest of Thunderbird house, playing games of hide-and-seek throughout the school grounds, hiking on Mt. Greylock and in the air inventing ever-more dangerous variations of quodpot.

And her wand has been with her ever since – an extension of herself and her – _their_ – magic. They had indeed learned from one another. She fits the pieces together and focuses as hard as she can.

“Reparo.”

The two halves slowly reconnect, but the break is visible as though it has been clumsily glued back together. It will never do magic again, but it hurts less to see it this way.

She looks around the small room for somewhere to hide it. Under the cot, the stones don’t quite meet the concrete floor, leaving a shallow gap. She pushes the wand into the space and out of sight.

That done, she retrieves her coat from the corner and puts it on. Shoving her hands into the pockets, she sits down on the cot and considers her situation.

There’s a slight rustle and the same mouse – or an identical one – emerges from the hole in the wall.

“Hello again. I still don’t have any food for you. I guess they’ll feed me if they want to keep me alive for a while. When they do, you can have some.”

The mouse sits up on its haunches and looks at her with bright, black eyes.

“Do you have a name? I’ll have to think of one. I don’t even know if you’re a boy or a girl. Newt would know just by looking at you. Or... he might not since you aren’t magical.”

Tina feels like an idiot talking to a mouse, but there is no one human to hear her, and it does help to speak her thoughts aloud.

“I don’t know what to do. I can try to escape – and as an auror, it’s my duty to try. But….if they catch me, they’ll probably kill me sooner rather than later. Or….I can wait to be rescued. But seeing as no one even knows I’m gone, and probably won’t for a while, I might be waiting a long time.”

Waiting to face how many more torture sessions? She’s not in pain exactly, but there’s a low all-over ache in her bones, and her hands won’t stop trembling – nerves overstimulated by the Crucio.

She stuffs her hands deeper in her pockets and feels something hard. Curious, she reaches into one of the inner pockets and pulls out a small paper bag.

“Oh! I forgot I had this!” She fumbles the bag open and takes out the half-eaten chocolate bar. “Have you ever had chocolate? It’s really good.”

Slowly, she breaks off a tiny corner, and sets it on the floor, as far away from the cot as she can reach. The mouse scurries back at her movement.

“Come on…. I won’t hurt you.” Tina holds her breath as the tiny creature stops, nose twitching as it catches a whiff of the candy, eyes on her all the time. “I won’t look at you, will that help?”

Her stomach rumbles loudly, reminding her that she hasn’t eaten since….well, hours ago. She breaks off one square of chocolate and wraps up the rest. Better to save it for a treat later. If there is a later.

She nibbles the candy while watching the mouse out of the edge of her vision. It sneaks around the edge of the room, taking a roundabout way toward the fragment.

“I guess I’ll wait for a little while – let them think I’ve given in – and then try to run when they don’t expect it. Maybe when they take me out again to ask more questions.” She grimaces.

The mouse reaches the piece of chocolate and scarfs it down in seconds.

“How about I call you Bertha after Berthilde Roche? She was one of the original twelve American aurors. I had a book about them when I was little. I always liked that name.”

The mouse gives Tina one last look and runs back across the room to disappear through the hole.

Tina sighs. “Wish I could do that….”

Three “days” pass – at least as nearly as she can tell. The sounds of men in the building swell during what she assumes is the “day” and taper off at “night”. They feed her twice daily – usually vegetable stew and a piece of bread. It’s nowhere near Queenie’s standards – or even a food-cart hot dog – but she eats it to keep up her strength.

A cup of water is magically refilled when she empties it, and Tina finds she is more grateful for that – and the opportunity to keep somewhat clean – than she would’ve thought possible during her life “before.”

She saves the bread for Bertha, and soon the mouse will come out when she whistles. Tina is amazed – though he knows she shouldn’t be – at how much it helps to have someone to talk to even if they can’t talk back.

She’s used to being busy every waking moment, so having nothing at all to do is vexing. She goes over all she can remember about physical fighting, mentally pens several letters to Newt – and not a few to Queenie – and between naps, tries to picture every detail of the inside of Newt’s wondrous case.

She envisions his shed, piled high with herbs, papers, bottles and jars, and each of the habitats: jungle, grassland, rainforest, Arizona desert. She likes this one best and dwells on it more than the others. She concentrates on the blue sky and red sands until she can almost feel the sun hot upon her head.

“You’d like it there,” she tells Bertha as they have what Tina has decided to call breakfast. “It’s full of sunlight and air – not like here.” She watches the mouse eat. “Huh….maybe you wouldn’t. There are a lot of animals who might think you were a snack. My grandpa raised owls, and they eat mice. But I know Newt wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Sometime later, Tina startles out of a doze beneath her coat to the sound of a key turning in the lock. It’s too early for her second meal, so this must be something else. Her heart begins to race.

“Get up! The boss wants ya.” Adams again.

She goes with him, keeping her head down and dragging her feet a little. He leads her down the same corridor as last time they had let her out.

If she can get outside, there’s a chance she can hide, especially if they're near the docks. She relaxes her muscles, and the man’s grip slackens as he senses her lack of resistance.

As they reach the interrogation room, Tina twists herself free and sprints for the door at the end of the hall. She slams against it and fumbles for the knob.  _Please don’t let it be locked!_

It bursts open and she stumbles out, the sunlight blinding her. She scans left and right, looking for somewhere to hide. All around are stacks of pallets loaded with bags, crates and barrels. She runs to the nearest one and crouches, peering through a gap between two crates. The door she just left reopens and several men pour out.

“Find her!” someone shouts. “Or it’s all our heads!”

Tina waits until they’re some distance away before breaking cover for the next stack of containers. She works her way down the rows of warehouses. She can hear cars on a nearby street.

_Almost there! Almost there! Almost –_

“Stupify!”

The hex hits her from the side when she breaks cover, and she sprawls into the dirt face down.

_No! I was so close!_

A hard foot catches her in the side, and she feels a rib break as it turns her over. Raul is staring down at her, looking annoyed.

“Miss Goldstein. I admit, I’m disappointed. What am I going to do with you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tons of thanks to Katie Havok, DeviousDiggy, Loon Whisperer and quillandsaber for all their beta reading, hand holding, butt kicking and research help.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but things will be darker from here on out - please mind the tags. Thanks as always to @katiehavok for her beta reading, listening ear, and numerous suggestions.

_Thursday, March 9, 1927_

_Dear Mr. Scamander,_

_I have begun and discarded three sheets of paper before deciding there is no other way to tell you this except to say it: Tina is missing._

_When I left MACUSA on Friday, Tina told me she would be working late and not to wait up. She didn’t come home as far as I know. In the morning, I received a note telling me that she had an emergency case in California, and she might be gone for a while. As you can imagine, this is not an uncommon occurrence with her job, so I thought nothing of it._

_On Tuesday, one of Tina’s co-workers asked me how Tina was enjoying her time off. Apparently, someone submitted a vacation request in her name several days before. The doorman remembers seeing Teenie leave Saturday about 2 a.m. Mr. Graves suspects that whoever kidnapped her did so soon after she left the Woolworth building. Teenie always did like walking at night._

_I know I don’t have to tell you how upset I am. Jacob has insisted on staying with me. Mrs. Esposito (our landlady, you remember?) is fine with it, thank Circe. I couldn’t stand being in the apartment alone right now._

_Even though Mr. Graves has few leads, I have been going out with the aurors assigned to find Tina. I may be able to hear her if I’m close enough. The only comfort in all of this is that Mr. Graves does not believe Grindelwald’s people are involved. The rumors he’s uncovered make him think it is someone in New York City. So, there is a chance we may find her soon._

_I will keep you informed if I hear any news at all._

_Yours,  
Queenie Goldstein_

* * *

Tina drifts in and out of consciousness. Being awake is painful, so she prefers to sleep. In her dreams, there are no broken bones and bruises from heavy fists and later, no hunger. The magically refilling cup of water remains, but she hasn’t been given anything to eat since her escape attempt.

Bertha visits from time to time, but since Tina has no food to share, the mouse does not stay long.

She and Queenie are children again, playing on the living room floor, aged five and three. Tina holds up the doll they are dressing. When she lets go, it stays hovering in mid-air. Queenie squeals and claps her hands in delight.

“My clever girl!” Mama says from where she’s sitting on the sofa behind them with the basket of mending. She leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of Tina’s head.

* * *

_Saturday, March 11, 1927_

_Dear Miss Goldstein,_

_I have arranged passage on a tramp steamer due to depart Monday and should be arriving in New York in approximately two weeks. Unfortunately, this was the only transport I could arrange at such short notice – hence the overlong crossing. My brother Theseus attempted to secure a portkey but was unsuccessful. I hope that by the time I arrive, Tina will have been found._

_On that note, Theseus has agreed to correspond with Mr. Graves – they are old friends from the war – to keep me updated on the progress of the investigation._

_I am glad you have Jacob with you. Tina told me in our letters that he has recovered his memories. Tell him hello from me._

_If anything about my itinerary changes, I will, of course, let you know at once. Please keep me informed of all developments._

_Yours,  
Newt Scamander_

* * *

Tina is seven and Papa tucks them into bed and reads them a story Queenie chooses – then a second one when Tina insists.

Holding her small suitcase in one hand and Queenie by the other as a Ministry witch leads them into the foyer of the children’s home. She looks around at all the unfamiliar faces and pulls her sister closer.

Giving Queenie one last hug and trying not to cry before taking the portkey to Ilvermorny on her first day.

“I’ll be back for the winter holiday, I promise.”

“Don’t go, Teenie.”

“I have to. I love you, sis.”

* * *

_Monday, March 14_

_Newt,_

_Please excuse the state of this letter – my hand is shaking too much to make a good job of it. The most horrible thing happened today._

_I received a letter at work with a photo of Tina. When I saw it, I screamed in front of the whole wand permit office. She was tied up and being hurt. I took it to Mr. Graves, and he said it looked like the Cruciatus curse or something equally painful. The letter was typed and said, “Your sister is our guest – for a while.”_

_I’m so scared, Newt. That makes it sound like whoever has Teenie doesn’t mean to keep her alive for very long. Mr. Graves has a team examining the photo and the letter, but I don’t know how much they’ll be able to find._

_Jacob tries to keep my spirits up. He said that, awful as it is, whoever sent that picture will probably send more just to get a reaction out of us. And more pictures means more clues about where they’re keeping her. It makes me sick to think of anyone hurting Teenie._

_I'd better close now, or I'll just keep writing in circles. I would say that I hope your trip is uneventful and the weather holds, but I'm too worried about Tina to spare any energy for pleasantries. I'll write again if we receive any more news. Please hurry._

_Queenie_

* * *

Tina wakes from memories of her first day at MACUSA to the sound of a key turning in the lock.

She tries to sit up and falls back at once, gasping in pain as her broken ribs shift. Her left arm is throbbing. There’s no lump, but that doesn’t mean it’s not broken. Her left eye is swollen shut, and the right one isn’t much better. The inside of her mouth is shredded, and a couple of teeth feel loose.

Raul shakes his head as he looks her over. “What a shame. You really are in bad shape, aren’t you? Adams has been disposed of. I warned him you would be obligated to make the attempt.”

Tina’s empty stomach lurches at such callous disregard. _If you’d gotten away you wouldn’t care what happened to him_ , she reminds herself.

“I apologize for making you wait and not administering your punishment at once. But I wanted to make sure I had time to give you my full attention.”

“What? Being beaten nearly to death and starved isn’t punishment enough?” she spits through her broken mouth, unwilling to give him any quarter.

Raul shakes his head in mock sorrow as he unbuckles his belt, eyes gleaming cruelly as he watches her. It takes her hunger-wracked brain a moment to realize what he intends.

Despite her injuries, she lurches off the cot and flings herself at the door. He catches her easily, slamming her back into a wall. Then she’s fighting – punching, kicking, scratching – all thoughts of organized combat techniques subsumed by pure terror.

She is dimly aware of more people surrounding her, hands everywhere, all of them too strong, tearing at her clothes and hair. They sling her onto the cot and hold her down until she is exhausted.

Raul strokes the hair away from her face gently. His touch makes Tina’s skin crawl. “Now, now, Tina. Don’t tell me you didn’t anticipate this? It is considered an effective weapon of war, I think.”

He draws a knife from his belt holster and takes her right hand in an iron grip. Carefully, he runs the blade around the base of her index finger, just hard enough to draw blood.

Tina gasps and grits her teeth against the sudden flare of pain.

“Fight me again, and we’ll send your sister a little present. Maybe a tiny pink box with a bow on top. Imagine if she found it on her desk at MACUSA and opened it in front of everyone….”

He presses harder on the blade and to her shame, Tina whimpers.

“Understand?”

“Yes!”

He folds the knife and reaches for his trousers again. “Just remember, you brought this on yourself.” He turns to one of his men. “Make sure you have a clear view.”

* * *

_Sunday, March 20_

_Queenie,_

_I do hope you saw my warning in time and opened this correspondence first, otherwise I apologize for the confusion._

_I received your letter on Wednesday, along with another bearing no return address. Fortunately, I opened your missive first. Even still, I was not prepared for the content of the other letter. The photo was appalling. I was insensible with grief and rage for some time after viewing it – which is why I have taken so long to reply to you. I have enclosed it and the note in a separate envelope. I beg you, for your own sanity, do _NOT_ open it._

_I hate that anyone else must see Tina as she is in that photo, but if there is anything in it MACUSA can use to locate her, I must allow it._

_I wish now that I had pushed my brother to secure a portkey. Knowing that it will be days before I can be of any use to Tina is galling in the extreme._

_Newt_


	4. Chapter 4

_She does not cry. They have taken everything else from her; she refuses to let them have her tears._

Tina runs an unsteady finger over the wall inches in front of her nose. The cool stone blocks are a pleasant contrast to the rough cement between them. She strokes one joint over and over, the slight rasping noise loud in the now silent room. She wonders at the array of colors in each stone…. cream, grey, brown, white, black, green….

Some part of her registers the gust of cool air on her naked back as the door opens, but she does not look around. She hears the clink of a plate being set down, then the resulting breeze when whoever it is leaves, and she is alone once more.

The scent of beef stew makes her stomach lurch unpleasantly, and she sits up quickly. Too quickly. The pain is so bad that only a breathy wheeze makes it past her bitten lips. Bruises old and new sing in discordant harmony.

Dimly, she is aware that she is shivering violently. Shock. A perfectly normal reaction after being… She grits her teeth against the cold and the memories. _No. I won’t think about that. Not now, maybe not ever._ She wraps herself in her coat and huddles on the cot, arms around her legs.

Tina pictures the shed in Newt’s case, and it comes easily now after so many hours of contemplation. In her mind, she walks to the door and opens it.

Outside, instead of varied ecosystems, is the swirling dark mass of an obscurial. No, not an obscurial… something different. She walks around it, studying it from all angles. It is not black as Credence’s was, but dark blue and more like a cyclone than a whirlwind. Gradually, she realizes that it is hers. A maelstrom of thoughts, emotions and memories of her own creation.

Tina concentrates, and the storm shrinks until she can hold it cupped in her hands, like a newborn occamy. She turns and reenters the shed looking for a suitable…. habitat, as Newt would call it. She considers the desk drawers, the array of potion bottles on a shelf.

She turns to the workbench and sees the box. It is small, made of ornately carved dark wood. The lid raises silently revealing the red velvet interior. And she _remembers_.

Her bottom is asleep from sitting on the hard chair for hours, but Tina ignores it, intent on listening to the two witches – one a healer and one from Children’s Services – talking in low voices a few feet away.

“No other family that we’ve found,” the government witch says. “But they’re both down for Ilvermorny when the time comes.”

“It’s a sad case,” the healer agrees. “The girls haven’t been any trouble at all.”

They glance over, and Tina looks down at Queenie’s sleeping face in her lap. She smooths back a blond curl.

“The little one is as sweet as she can be,” the healer continues. “She cried a little bit when we told them, but I don’t think she really understood.”

“And the older girl?”

The healer sighs and shakes her head. “Not a tear. I’ve never seen a child sit so still, or look so old. I will say she’s wonderful at caring for her sister, though.”

“Alright, I’m supposed to take them to the apartment to pack their things. Luckily, the home has room for two more.”

Tina knows what that means. An orphanage. Because Mama and Papa are….No, she can’t cry. She won’t. It’s her job to look after Queenie now. Mama said it was. When she turned eight, Mama said she was a big girl, and Tina takes this responsibility seriously.

They were cleaning up the kitchen after Tina’s birthday lunch. Queenie had been persuaded – with difficulty – to take a nap.

Mama shook her head. “She follows you around like a little duck! I’m going to start calling you Mother Goose!”

That made Tina giggle because it was true. Wherever Tina was, Queenie was never far behind.

“You must always watch out for her,” Mama said, and the solemn tone of her voice made Tina stop laughing. “She’s not strong like you.” She ran a hand over Tina’s dark hair and cupped her cheek. “You can stand against the storm, but she would be blown away.”

That was true, too. Queenie was what people called delicate, like a china doll. She was frequently sick with sniffles or a cough.

“Come here.” Mama led Tina into her and Papa’s bedroom. Carefully, she set her jewelry box on the bed and opened it. Tina watched eagerly as she drew out a gold-colored locket on a long chain.

“This was my mother’s, and now I want you to have it.” She showed Tina how to open the clasp to reveal two tiny photographs. “A picture of me and Papa and a picture of Queenie. So you will always have us next to your heart and remember us.”

Tina solemnly put the chain over her head and looked again at the pictures. “I promise.”

At the apartment, while the government witch waited in the living room, Tina headed straight for the bedroom and slid the jewelry box carefully off the dresser. She packed it under the clothes in her small suitcase along with her doll and a copy of “The Tales of Beedle the Bard.” It went with her to Ilvermorny, and then to the new home she and Queenie found in Manhattan.

Now, Tina places the miniature storm in the box and closes the lid. Safe. Locked away where it can’t hurt her. Satisfied and calmed, she turns and climbs the stairs back to her cell.

* * *

_Friday, March 25_

_Newt,  
I’m so sorry I haven’t written. There have been more photos – I’m not sure how many, but several. The President got one and Mr. Graves and a few other people. I gave yours to the team working on Tina’s case and did not look at it. But I can’t block out what the people who have seen them are thinking. The President offered to let me take some time off, but I need to be at the office in case they find Teenie._

_We have learned a bit more, though. Apparently, she's being held in a warehouse. We’re not even sure if it’s in the city or not, but it’s something to go on. I will take any hope I can get, no matter how small._

_And you are being of use! It helps me so much to be able to write to you. Jacob is wonderful, but he doesn’t love Teenie as you and I do. Yes, I know how you feel about her, and she feels the same way about you. She ~~looked~~ looks forward to every one of your letters. I have your ~~last~~ most recent one and am keeping it safe until she can read it._

_Let me know what time your ship is scheduled to get in on Tuesday, and either Jacob or I will try to meet you at the docks. Just in case we can’t, I’ve enclosed directions to his bakery. We look forward to seeing you, despite the circumstances of your visit._

_Queenie_

* * *

It takes all of her will not to move when her cell door opens, not to flinch away or curl into a ball.

“Enjoying your stay, Miss Goldstein?” Raul’s voice is politely inquiring. He walks close, and she can feel the heat of his body, the brush of his clothes.

He trails a finger lightly down her spine, and she can’t contain a shudder of revulsion.

“You know, I was thinking after I left you the other day that you must be getting lonely in here.”

She keeps her voice steady, or tries to. “I’ve had plenty of attention, thanks.”

“I told you: that… regrettable incident was your own fault. I’m talking about family and friends. Wouldn’t you like to see them? Your sister, what’s her name? Queenie. And that Englishman you write to?”

He chuckles at her start of surprise. “Yes, I could bring them here for you. Your sister is quite the doll, and I’m sure you would have a lot to talk about. Word is Scamander has been seen in New York – looking for you, apparently. It would be very easy to find him.”

She turns over and struggles to sit up against the stabbing pain of her broken rib. “Don’t you dare!”

“Oh! Have I hit a nerve at last?” He smirks and caresses her cheek in a sick lover’s pantomime. Tina recoils instinctively, and he smirks in triumph. “If I’d known this was all it took to make you behave, Tina, I’d have tried it sooner.”

“Please….” She forces the word out, trying to keep her panic from showing. _Not Queenie, not Queenie…I’ll do anything_ ….

“Then be a good girl, and maybe I won’t.”

An idea comes to her. For a moment, her heart quails at what she is about to do. _This is for Queenie and Newt. I can’t let them be hurt_. “Swear.”

He looks at her blankly, then starts to laugh. “What? You’re in no position to make deals.”

Tina digs deep for the crumbling resolve that has carried her through to this point. “Oh, but I think I am. You obviously want to keep me around or you would’ve killed me already.” She pauses to let that sink in. “If you make an Unbreakable Vow not to hurt my sister or anyone else close to me,” she glances emphatically past him at the man blocking the doorway in case of trouble. “And don’t let anyone else hurt them….”

She takes a deep breath and steels herself. “Then I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t fight, and I won’t try to escape again.” _It doesn’t matter what happens to me as long as they’re safe_.

Raul stares, and she forces herself to meet his eyes.

“Anything?” The word is heavy with meaning.

She hesitates, feeling sick. _No going back now, Goldstein._ “Yes.”

“Alright, I think we have a deal. I’ll be back.” He steps out, and she hears him talking to someone.

Tina begins to shake with delayed reaction. She can guess what plans Raul has for her once she is totally helpless, and revulsion crawls up her throat. _It has to be this way. I couldn’t live with myself if he got hold of Newt or Queenie._

_Newt_... She’d had dreams – real ones that Queenie gently teased her about in the morning – of kissing him, him kissing her, doing a lot more than kissing – things she’d never done with anyone.

_And now it’s too late. Even if I did get out of here, there’s no chance he’d want someone so weak and filthy and used. Some auror I am: can’t even manage to escape properly. They should just stop looking… not even bother with me. Queenie has Jacob, and Newt has his creatures. I won’t be missed._

Numbly, she allows herself to be led out of her cell to the warehouse proper – a huge room that’s been partitioned into different areas for sleeping, cooking and storage. A crate full of no-maj bullets spills across the floor next to several bottles of illicit alcohol. About 30 men sit along the walls, leaving space free in the middle.

Someone shoves her to her knees and then Raul’s hand is gripping hers and she forces herself not to yank away, her gorge rising. And then she’s answering, “I will” to whatever Raul is saying. His lips are moving, but she can’t understand a word.

_It’s like some sort of perverted wedding ceremony_ , Tina thinks and chokes back a semi-hysterical urge to laugh and cry at the same time.

She watches from far away as three flaming ropes loops around their joined hands and sinks into her skin, leaving behind a black, tattoo-like bracelet of chain links. _How appropriate_.

“That’s done,” Raul says as he stands and pulls Tina to her feet. “Now, down to business.”

In the hall, they stop in front of a locked door. Tina can feel protective wards tingling on her skin. He releases her to open it, and she doesn’t move. She realizes this must be his personal quarters, but has only a moment to look around before he pushes her toward the large bed in one corner. “First, let’s see how much you already know. Don’t worry – I’ll be more than happy to teach you.”

She can hear the anticipation in his voice. _Merlin, please….I don’t want to do this!_

Raul deposits her in her cell hours later and does not shut the door when he leaves. Battered, freshly-torn and bruised, with his taste in her mouth, Tina soon realizes that this is not a kindness or a test of her vow, but a notice to others that she is _available_.

* * *

_Sunday, March 28_

_Queenie,  
As of now, we are still on schedule to dock Tuesday at about 11 am. I hope that will be a convenient time for you and Jacob._

_I received a second photograph on Wednesday. In it, Tina was sleeping – at least, I hope it was sleep. She looked so fragile. I am afraid of the state she will be in when we find her. And we will find her. I refuse to entertain any other option. I believe my creatures may be able to help if needed. Pickett is quite good with locks, as you know. And some of the others may be able to track her._

_A storm is brewing so I will end before my handwriting grows illegible from the ship’s motion. I will see you on Tuesday if all goes well._

_Newt_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end, folks! Just one more chapter and the epilogue! Part two is already in progress. 
> 
> Tons of thanks to Katie Havok, DeviousDiggy, Loon Whisperer and quillandsaber for all their beta reading, hand holding, butt kicking and research help.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! This is technically the last – and longest – chapter with an epilogue to follow next Wednesday. Look out for part 2: "Open Doors" which will pick up right where this one leaves off. I should start posting it in a couple of weeks if all goes well. You can find me on Tumblr at @kemara24 if you want to say hi.
> 
> Thanks to @katiehavok who gets a co-writing credit for all of her wonderful suggestions. Thanks also to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos on this fic. You're all wonderful!

_She does not cry. She has sold her soul to the devil, and he has no use for weakness._

As the days pass, Tina memorizes the faces of her visitors and what they like. For some, she is a punching bag, and they enjoy hearing her beg for mercy; for others, she is a business arrangement – like any whore they might patronize. They pay her in bits of food and occasional bottles of alcohol. She accepts all types and refuses nothing.

Raul has her brought to his private rooms frequently. The first time it happened, Tina wasn’t sure what to expect – only that it would be torture at worst and painful at best. To her surprise it’s...not that bad. Not pleasant by any means, but nothing she can’t stand.

“Drink this.” He presses a vial into her hand as soon as she’s inside with the door locked and warded behind them.

She looks at the unfamiliar dark red potion. “What is it?” The marks around her wrist, the legacy of the Unbreakable Vow, give a warning buzz.

He sneers. “To stop you from ending up with my bastard - or anyone else's. I need you useful.”

Tina thinks unbidden of a boy-child with her dark hair and Newt’s freckles. The potion burns as she gulps it down.

After that, events are always hazy. Tina supposes it’s from the potion – maybe she’s allergic to it. In any case, she can only remember bits and pieces – Raul’s cold hands on her breasts, his foul breath close to her ear.

“Have you and your Englishman done this? What would he say if he knew you’d let me touch you this way?”

Back in her cell, some part of Tina’s mind knows he did awful things to her – things she would never agree to do even if Newt pleaded. Her broken rest is disturbed by dreams of phantom pain and humiliation, and her hatred for Raul increases.

She has no appetite and eats only because it disrupts the monotony. Bertha returns, and Tina lets the mouse finish whatever is left on her plate. A second, larger mouse appears, and she wonders if there will be babies and if she will still be here to see them.

Her already thin frame becomes nearly skeletal. She aches from an array of bruises and cuts which her captors no longer bother to heal. The tender, swollen flesh between her legs is constantly raw and chafed, given no time to recover. Urinating is torture, and she drinks as little water as possible. Sometimes she wonders if she’s dying, and usually hopes that she is.

In the rare instances when she is alone, she dozes, dreaming of Queenie, Newt, Jacob and a menagerie of fantastic beasts.

Shouts and laughter rouse her from thin sleep one night. Two of her usual customers are dragging a third man – a boy, really – between them. He looks to be in his mid-teens, tall and gangly, with blond, wavy hair, a smattering of freckles and teary, green eyes. She is forcibly reminded of Newt, and her heart clenches. He is obviously terrified but trying to hide it behind bravado.

“Even been with a woman before?”

“N- no…. not really.”

They laugh derisively. “Either you have or you haven’t.”

One of them turns to her. “Hey, doll! Got a new recruit for ya! Go ahead, show him what he’s been missing!” They shove the boy into her cell and stand in the doorway, leering.

She looks up at him. He’s staring, face red with embarrassment. She’s filthy, bony and covered in bruises and sores, and likely the first naked woman he has ever seen.

“Get on with it – and stop sniveling! You’re one of us now, and you’re not leaving.”

For the first time in days, emotion stirs – hatred, mixed with pity for someone as trapped and helpless as she is. Suddenly, she wants to give him this. Something nice in the middle of the hellhole he’s landed in. She meets his eyes and arranges herself into a suitable ‘come hither’ posture.

He stumbles over to her, an involuntary bulge already tenting the front of his pants. She unfastens them slowly, listening to the way his breathing catches. He’s elegantly made, the detached part of her muses as she cradles him gently – long and slender.

She kisses the tip, and he gives a little cry of surprise.

The other men laugh. “Bets on how long he’s gonna last?”

Not long, Tina thinks as she licks around the rapidly darkening head. A couple of minutes at most, young as he is. She takes him into her mouth with practiced ease and he groans.

One of the men curses. “Damn, hurry it up, girl! I want a turn with that mouth of yours.”

She sucks in more of his length, wrapping one hand around the shaft and starting a smooth rhythm. The other cups his balls to find that he’s already full and tight. His hips jerk, but she’s ready for it, following the movement.

As much as she wants to draw this out, they could both be in trouble if she shows any favoritism. Her tongue finds the vein on the underside of his cock, stroking it heatedly as her fingers press on his perineum.

He shouts, and she pulls back just in time to avoid being choked as he surges into her mouth. That rebellious part of her notes that he tastes good…. salty and a little sweet.

Tina lets him go and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. He is only just recovered before he is yanked out of the room, and another man takes his place, already unfastening his trousers with a lewd grin. She hides a sigh and gets to work.

* * *

About a week passes before she sees the boy again. She is nearly asleep when her door nudges open and he slips inside, shutting it firmly behind him. She begins to sit up before deciding there’s no point.

“Hi.”

She says nothing.

“I don’t want – that – don’t worry. It’s just…” He glances nervously over his shoulder. “They said it was my turn, so I thought I’d better at least come in. Maybe we can talk…. for a few minutes or however long….” He blushes, obviously remembering their first, very short, encounter.

She sighs and drags herself upright until she’s leaning with her back against the wall. She wraps her coat – now worn and stained but still warm – around her. “Sit down, then.”

He does – on the very edge of the cot, as far away from her as he can get. He doesn’t look at her, and this, too, is another reminder of Newt. “I um…I wanted to say ‘sorry’. For…the other night.”

“I don’t think either of us had much choice.”

“No, but still.” He glances at her and then away. “How long have you been here?”

She shrugs. “No idea. They kidnapped me on March 5.”

He looks shocked. “Today is April 7.”

A month…. surely they’re looking for her: Queenie, Director Graves and everyone at MACUSA. Raul said Newt is back in New York. But the city is big, and there’s only so many resources MACUSA can spare to search for one missing auror.

“So, where are we? I haven’t been out since I got here.” A harmless white lie.

He gives her an address she recognizes: an area of warehouses on the Hudson. She knew that, of course, but now she can pinpoint it on the map in her mind. Hope surges in her chest, and she forces herself to stay calm. _Don’t mess this up, Goldstein._

“Why did they kidnap you?” he asks. “I know why _I’m_ here.”

“I’m an auror. Your boss has a grudge against me. And what do you mean? Don’t you want to be here?”

He goggles. “An auror? Really? No…. I hate it here, but like you said: I don’t have any choice. See, my father’s part of–” he waves a hand at the door, “–all that, but not real high up.” He hesitates. “You’re an auror. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this….”

She surprises them both by laughing roughly. “You think it matters now?”

He smiles a little. “Yeah, that’s true. Anyway, my pa found out I had a…. boyfriend.” He tenses automatically as though expecting her to scream. When she only nods, he relaxes a bit.

“And he got upset?” she guesses.

“You could say that. He beat the shit out of both of us and dragged me here – said they’ll make me a ‘real man’. If I do well – whatever that means – he gets to move up in the ranks.”

She studies him. “And what about you? What happens to you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying not to think about it too much.” They’re silent for a minute. “What’s it like being an auror? When you’re not being held captive, I mean?”

She quirks a smile at that. “It can be exciting,” she says, thinking of Newt and his beasts. “But boring too. Lots of paperwork.”

He looks interested anyway, so she gives him an abridged version of a recent case involving a duel with two of Grindelwald’s followers.

“I wish I was a wizard.”

“You’re not?”

“Squib. Another reason for my pa to hate me.”

She has nothing to say to that.

“I’d better go,” he sighs. “I’ve been in here long enough I guess.”

Inwardly she curses herself. She’s getting attached. But even knowing that, she lays a hand on his arm. “Wait. Don’t you think we should do what you’re here for?”

He blushes again, and she finds it endearing. “You…you don’t have to…”

“But I want to.” She kneels before him and opens his pants, and he makes no move to evade her touch.

His whole body shudders when she brushes against him, and she exults at how sensitive he is. She wonders if Newt would be the same way, then ruthlessly pushes the thought aside. Tina strokes him lightly, and he cries out.

“Shh…It’s okay. Just relax. Breathe…that’s right.”

When he is still again, she resumes with her hand and lips. She eases off when he tenses, showing him how to let the pleasure build, before urging him close to the edge.

She slides her free hand between her own legs feeling for the knot of nerves that has, thankfully, gone ignored all this time. She rubs it lightly with two fingers and the resulting jolt of pleasure makes her moan around his cock.

She lets her eyes drift closed, pretending it is Newt there with her.

“I…I can’t…” he gasps. He is looking down at her wildly, his green eyes gone dark and wide.

She redoubles her efforts, and he finishes with a yell. Her own orgasm is small but powerful, leaving her weak. She feels a savage triumph. _Couldn’t take that from me could you, assholes?_

* * *

After he leaves, Tina finds herself unable to sleep. Something about him – his youth, his similarity to Newt, his vulnerability – has awakened her mentally as well as physically. She realizes she no longer wants to die, and she can’t help hating him just a little for that. She knows there’s no reason for it. She hadn’t blamed Credence because she lost her job, after all.

_You’ve always been too honest for your own good, Goldstein. What’s done is done._

Honesty or not, now she needed to work out what to do. Escape and fighting are off the table, so that leaves mental pursuits. She entertains the idea of working a few arithmancy problems…. definitely not. She goes down a list of Ilvermorny school subjects: ancient runes, transfiguration, charms – all of them useless without a wand.

A wand…. Aside from connecting the halves, she hasn’t tried any magic without it in a long time. The elective class she took in her seventh year had been more for the need to fill a free space in her schedule than out of interest. The professor spent most of the time droning on about the power of the mind instead of explaining anything practical. Auror training had emphasized disarming, shielding and unbinding spells, but Tina had never really gotten the hang of it.

“You’re too much in your own head,” Queenie told her once, waving an airy hand and summoning the coffee pot from the counter. “Don’t _think_ about it so much.”

But now she has all the time in the world to practice. The idea is appealing – even if she doesn’t improve, it would be a way to pass the endless hours between visitors.

“Something simple to start with.” She decides. She pictures pages from the second volume of Chadwick’s Charms and concentrates.

A flame. She holds out her right hand, palm up, and focuses, reaching for her magic. Nothing happens.

_Okay, let’s think about this. I did it before, but maybe the wand itself helped that time and gave me a boost. A wand is just a tool, and I have to train myself away from relying on it._

* * *

She keeps practicing whenever she is alone, and it quickly becomes an obsession. Hours, or days later a shower of blue sparks appears above her hand. They vanish quickly, but she is encouraged.

Her visitors that day are particularly brutal, and lack of essential food has made her weak. She must retreat further behind her mental shields to block them out. At last, the varied world of Newt’s case appears around her instead of the stone walls of her cell. She makes her way quickly to her favorite place, the hot, dry desert of Arizona. It is the only place she feels warm. She sits on a rock and gazes up at the blue sky overhead, content to think of nothing at all.

The bang of the door closing brings her back to herself as it always does. She sits up, barely noticing the new bruises. She drops her shields and calls out to Queenie automatically. A tiny part of her is beginning to think her sister will never hear, never find her. She pushes the despair down, locking it away with her tears.

_Focus on what you can control right now, Goldstein. Everything else is secondary._

The sparks appear more quickly now, in shades of purple and green. She watches them in fascination, directing them to swirl and loop in endless patterns. She keeps it up for a long time.

Two days later, a tiny flame nestles in her palm. Its colors shift from blue to green to purple and back to blue. She brushes at it with a fingertip and it follows the movement, like one of Newt’s creatures wanting attention. It reminds her of the shimmer of the occamy’s scales.

For the first time since her capture, she feels something close to happiness. She smiles, dry lips splitting with a trickle of blood. Almost, _almost_ , she allows herself to hope.

The boy shows up at her door that night, and she finds that she is glad to see him.

“Here, I brought you this.” He takes a wrapped parcel from the pocket of his coat and hands it to her.

She unwraps the layers of butcher paper to find a niffler-shaped pastry, and stares, heart stuttering in her chest.

He’s watching her anxiously. “What’s wrong? I know they don’t feed you much, so I thought…”

“No!” It comes out more harshly than she meant, and she clears her throat. “It’s just…. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Some sort of animal, isn’t it? Where did you get it?”

He sighs in relief and sits in his usual spot. “New place called ‘Kowalski’s’ in Manhattan. He does all sorts of pastries like that – weird animals no one’s ever seen before. Says he just dreams them up.”

So, Jacob had finally opened his bakery. He and Queenie must be over the moon. Tears prickle at her eyes, and she blinks them back fiercely. No time for that now. She needs to use this chance.

“You are upset, I can tell.”

She looks up to find the boy – she really should ask his name – staring right at her. The sheer goodness in his green eyes loosens her tongue.

“I…my sister and I know him. He’s a good friend.”

He frowns. “Your sister?”

“Yes, she works at MACUSA, too.” She’s shaking with nerves. She wants to ask, knows he would say ‘yes’ in an instant. But if he got caught, she would never forgive herself.

“I could take Kowalski a message,” he says at once. “Or maybe your sister if you describe her to me.”

She sets the pastry down on the cot and takes both his hands in hers. She expects them to be calloused like Newt’s, but they’re smooth and warm against her chill fingers. “Are you certain? If they find out, they’ll kill you. Raul has – plans – for me, eventually.” Plans for her own death, she adds to herself. Something dramatic and probably very painful, knowing him.

He squeezes her hands, his grip firm. “I know that.” He sounds more like a man than a boy now, and she curses herself yet again for getting so attached. He has changed her, but she has changed him, too. And maybe not for the better.

“Alright. If…if you’re sure.” She slides her hands free and picks up the pastry again, tearing off two small pieces of paper. “Normally, I’d say a written note is too dangerous in case it’s found. But it would be easy to slip to Jacob – Mr. Kowalski – with your money, or push into Queenie’s hand as you walk past her.”

He offers her a pencil stub from his pocket. “I can do that.”

“No, Queenie knows my handwriting.” She jots down the address twice, taking care to form the letters clearly past the tremble in her fingers. As she writes, she gives him a detailed description of Queenie so there can be no doubt. She folds both papers in half, and he tucks them into his pants pocket. “Thank you.” She kisses him on the cheek, and he smiles.

“You’re welcome. I’ll go now and let you eat that. Maybe I can bring another one tomorrow.”

She shakes her head. “Wait a few days. We don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”

When he’s gone, she eats the pastry in tiny bites, savoring the almost-forgotten sweetness.


	6. Chapter 6

Four days crawl by with aching slowness. Tina channels her almost frantic concern into working with the flame spell. She can increase the size now, and even send it looping around the room – careful not to let it touch anything flammable. Sometimes she forgets that it will burn, even though it only feels comfortably warm to her touch.

She’s just finished a bowl of the usual boring stew when her cell door flies open so hard it bangs off the wall.

“Come on, you.” Carlos, one of Raul’s personal guards yanks her up. The bowl falls to the floor with a clatter.

Tina tries to think if she’s done anything to displease Raul, but nothing comes to mind. Terror knots her stomach as she trots after him.

She doesn’t see him at first. The main room is full of men – it looks like almost the entire gang are standing in small groups, talking animatedly.

Then the crowd thins, and her heart sinks. He is tied to a chair in the middle of the room. His face is bloody, but one green eye fixes on her.

“Boss, don’t you think we should clear out before…” someone asks from the back of the room.

Raul stalks forward and Tina gasps at his disheveled appearance – his shirt is untucked and his black hair looks as though he’s been running his hands through it.

“No! We will deal with this here and now.” His voice drops to a dangerous purr. “Not scared of MACUSA, are you, Bryant?”

The other man gulps visibly. “Of course not, boss. I just thought –.”

In a few strides, Raul has Bryant’s chin in a bruising grip. “I’ll do the thinking. Understand?”

Bryant nods, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

Raul releases him to sweep the room with his eyes. “Is that understood?”

The other men nod, the room going eerily silent.

He catches sight of Tina and crooks a finger at her. Carlos roughly pushes her forward with a hand on her back. She can feel the men’s stares, but her nakedness has long since stopped bothering her.

“Miss Goldstein, it seems our young friend here was caught sneaking around outside MACUSA on your behalf. Luckily, we caught him before he could speak to anyone.”

Tina watches the boy closely. Did he twitch just the tiniest bit? She keeps her face impassive. “I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“Hmm…” Raul hums. “I find that hard to believe. Why else would he have been there?”

She shrugs. “Maybe he was just walking by? The Woolworth building’s not exactly hidden.” She expects a slap for her insolence. If the boy did contact someone, the longer she can keep Raul here, the better.

He only nods. “True. But I’m afraid I cannot take that –.”

There’s a commotion at the back of the room and distant shouting, but Tina can’t make out the words. It takes an effort not to turn around to look.

“What’s going on?” Raul shouts over the din. “Carlos, go and see.” He pushes through the throng, pulling a no-maj gun as he does so.

Tina slips away from her distracted captors and over to the boy’s side. “It looks like we’re gonna live through this after all,” she hisses while fumbling at his ropes with shaking fingers.

She thinks he smiles, but it’s hard to tell through the blood covering his face from the split skin over his eye. “As long as you get out of here, ” he says mushily. “I don’t care about me.”

“Don’t you talk like that,” Tina says crisply, trying to project confidence. “I’m taking you with me.”

He chuckles. “I gave Queenie the note as she was leaving work. There was a red-headed man with her – not Mr. Kowalski.”

Tina’s heart beats even faster. _Newt. He’s here. He knows where I am. He might be coming for me right now._ The sounds of fighting are growing louder, and she redoubles her efforts to undo the ropes.

“Queenie’s a great cook. When we get out of here, I’ll have her make us her famous strudel.” She keeps up a desperate but soothing prattle, hoping to calm them both.

A spell shoots over their heads, and Tina looks around. Aurors are dueling with the gang members and fighting hand-to-hand. Two of them have backed Raul into a corner. He pulls his gun, but instead of pointing it at them, he aims it at the boy.

Time slows to a crawl. Tina tries to throw herself forward, to shield him with her body, but it feels like her limbs are stuck in quicksand. The crack of the shot echoes around the stone room, deafeningly loud.

“No!” She sees everything with brutal clarity – the impact of the bullet, the way his head snaps back, and the spray of blood. “No, please….” She scrabbles to feel for a pulse in his neck. It flutters like a bird’s wings beneath her trembling fingers and stops without warning. “No…” A thin moan of denial.

Tina sinks to the floor beside his chair, completely numb. She watches detachedly as aurors – many of whom she recognizes – take gang members into custody. Graves himself is there, and Tina tries to stand, to call out, but it’s too much effort to make her body move. Everything is muted…the grey stone walls, the aurors’ brown leather coats…as dull and lifeless as the boy beside her.

_A dragon_ , she thinks when she sees him. A blue and gold fury with fire lashing from his wand, amber eyes flashing thunder as he smites her captors. He brings sudden, vivid color back into her world, and she finds that she can move again. She pulls herself slowly up onto the boy’s chair, heedless of the blood on her hands.

“Newt.” It’s little more than a broken whisper, and there’s no way he can hear her across a room full of the sounds of fighting, people yelling and the crackle of spells.

But his head snaps around as though she has screamed his name. And then she’s running, throwing herself into his arms. He crushes her to him and she can’t breathe but that’s alright because she’s holding him just as tightly and he’s there and nothing matters besides that.

“Tina, Tina, Tina…” His shameless tears fall onto her hair like cleansing rain. "You're safe now, Tina. I've got you. I’ve got you. You're safe."

She says nothing…just buries her face into his shoulder and breathes in the clean scent of herbs and grass and animals that surround him. His hand strokes her hair over and over.

Something soft settles over her shoulders – a blanket?

“Goldstein….Tina.” Percival Graves is standing beside them, set face pale and more worried than she’s ever seen him. “How are you?”

She pulls back from Newt reluctantly but refuses to leave the ring of his arms. “I’m fine, sir.”

“No, you’re not,” Newt says, his eyes lingering pointedly on every bruise and cut.

“Your sister’s waiting at St. Agatha’s, but we brought a healer with us,” Graves says. “I’ll send someone for her.”

He turns to go, and Tina sees the two aurors who were dueling Raul leading him from the room.

“Wait!”

Everyone turns to look at her, criminals and aurors alike.

“Let him go.” Something is building inside her, something dark and volatile roiling just under her skin.

Newt says something in an attempt to calm her, but she doesn’t hear it over the sudden roaring in her ears. She frees herself from his embrace gently, and the blanket slides to the ground.

“Let him go, and step away. Please.”

She supposes Graves nods because the aurors holding Raul hesitantly move away.

“Tina…” Raul smirks, bravado still in place. “I own you, remember? You can’t leave.”

She looks down at the chain encircling her wrist, a reminder of what she’d sacrificed to keep those she loved safe. “No. But you can.”

She sees his puzzlement give way to fear as she extends her right hand and summons the familiar flame. She holds it for a moment inside her fist. Then, her fingers flick out almost casually.

It roars to meet him – a blue-green comet, and he is alight in an instant. His death screams are the most wonderful sound she has ever heard.

She sags against Newt, utterly exhausted, and he swings her up into his arms when silence descends. "Tina, I've got you."

"Please...don’t let me go." She snuggles against his chest and breathes in his comforting scent, the cloth of his coat soft under her cheek.

"I won't. I promise.” His voice is a soft whisper.

_Safe_. And she lets her eyes close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end! I hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks to my beta, @katiehavok who gets co-writing credit again for giving this short epilogue the punch it needed. And thanks to everyone who read and left kudos and comments. 
> 
> Part two – which is titled "Open Doors" unless I can think of something cleverer – will be up next Wednesday if family demands don't delay things. I'm really excited to continue Tina's journey now that she's back with her family and friends.


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